


two 2erviing2 of 2triider

by Aewin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Piercing, Come Inflation, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Fantasy Fulfillment, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Multi, Piercings, Size Kink, Stridercest - Freeform, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest, Vaginal Sex, piercing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aewin/pseuds/Aewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux just wanted a tattoo. He came out of it with ten piercings and a threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two 2erviing2 of 2triider

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Newtavore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtavore/gifts).



> Thanks to my fauxrail [Grimreaperchibi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimreaperchibi/pseuds/Grimreaperchibi) for the tattoo and piercing advice.

Dirk Strider is far less competent than he wishes he was, and you know this for capital-R Reasons. His weaksauce human tattooing device just sent two of its needles bouncing off his glasses instead of piercing your skin, and it isn’t really helping his case.

Predictably, Dave only stops taking digs at the two of you long enough to make sure he’s out of the danger zone.

“I cannot _believe_ this shit. I’m downright embarrassed to call you my ecto-relative. Sollux here looks like the subbiest bottom to ever take a dicking in his troll pussy, and you can’t even get it in for the line art. Lemme get my phone, I gotta whip out the Kevin Sorbo gifs so I can show you just how disappointed I am.”

Dirk glances at Dave. (Well, fuck knows if he’s actually _looking_ at him, given the Striders and their weird glasses fetish, but that’s the gist of it.)

“David Naruto Strider, you would think that after the awkward fumblingabout our bromantic leanings and sexual preferences thereof, you would know that I prefer ‘getting it’ in _my_ ass. Regardless, I am more than capable of insertion.” Dave mumbles something about his name in the corner while Dirk drums his fingers on the table covered in tattooing supplies. “So. How do you feel about piercings?”

“Disappointed that I took my shirt off and you couldn’t even get it in,” you deadpan. “You’ve promised me things before. Oh, Sollux, take your shirt off. Oh baby, let me mark you, it’ll be so sexy to have your symbol on display in your bountiful cleavage.”

“I deny any reference to your cleavage. Besides, your rumblespheres are about as ‘bountiful’ as the Irish potato harvest in 1846.” He flicks you hard on an earlobe. “Piercings. Answer.”

Your mouth spews out a “yes” before consulting your thinkpan, but when _does_ your mouth consult your thinkpan?

Dave grins.”Bit eager there, Sollux. That excited to get Dirk on your bulge?”

“Jesus FUCK, needles are the antithesis of things that need to be on my bulges.”

Dirk raises an eyebrow as he pushes the useless tray of tattooing paraphernalia to the side and pulls out a number of plastic-wrapped needles. “Bulges,” he drawls, emphasizing the plural. “Now I know you’re eager to get me on ‘em. Not the needles, just my sweet plush ass.”

“Just the needles for now, thanks. And as a clarifying detail for the wrigglers in the back,” you glare at Dave, “ _not_ on the bulges.” You carefully don’t mention the fact that having _him_ on your bulges isn’t something you’d reject, much less the fact that you may or may not have gotten off to the idea in the past.

“Lemme guess,” Dave quips. “Ears first. Red and blue on both sides, x2. One on each of those four freaky xeno-earlobes that’re reaching out like a plant strangled by roots and gasping out for sunlight.”

You scoff. “No, I’m not _that_ transparent. Red and black on one side, blue and white on the other.”

Dirk full-out laughs at that one. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen that much liveliness in him. He’s still working on that whole ‘emotional expression’ thing, though from what you’ve heard, he’s a lot more expressive than he used to be.

“Fine, fine. Four studs it is. Gimme a sec.” He scoots his spinny chair over to the alchimeter. (You’re not sure that’s the best thing to be sitting on for piercings, to be honest.)

Dave waggles an eyebrow. “There are only three studs in the room, bro.”

“Sollux counts as two.”

“Damn straight I do.”

You can practically _hear_ Dave facepalm.

Dirk spins back over to the two of you in a whirl of office-chair skillz, and holds out his hand. “Diamond, ruby, sapphire, onyx.”

“Works for me. Get on with the stabbing.”

He snaps on a pair of bright-pink surgical gloves, swabs your with some kind of cold liquid on a pad, unwraps a needle, and picks up something that looks suspiciously like a long pair of scissors. That makes you a bit apprehensive, but - as he’s fond of reminding people - he’s good at what he does.

Dave grins like he’s being paid for it when Dirk grabs an earlobe with - hmm. Those aren’t scissors, they’re just holding you there. His other hand moves by in a blur. There’s a small sting, and the scissor-things release their pressure.

Dirk holds up a mirror that shows off your shiny new red earring.

“That was it? Felt like a friggin’ bee sting.”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad on the ears,” Dave says. “I can attest that other areas hurt quite a bit more. Dirk did a good job with ‘em, though.”

Dirk holds up one of your earlobes to get at the one behind it while you interrogate Dave. “How the fuck would you know? I don’t see anything but earrings.”

Dave fake-coughs. “If you’re a _very good_ psionic, maybe I’ll show you the others someday.”

“Color me as interested as FF about cuttlefish, but somehow I don’t think I’ve ever fit into the category of ‘very good.’”

“We’ll cram you in there somehow if I ever get the urge to show you.”

You hear him wrong at first, and your nook pulses at the idea. God damn it, if you get a wriggly thinking about Striders cramming things into you while they’re _right here_ , you’re gonna fly off a cliff. (Which would do nothing, obviously, but it’s the thought that matters.)

Dirk thrusts the mirror in front of you again, and dear god, he’s already got all four in.

...and they are utterly _wrong_.

“You utter taintchafing fucknugget, these are _uneven_.”

“No, your _earlobes_ are uneven.”

You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of throwing an extended hissy fit about this. “I bet there’s no way even an amateur like _you_ can fuck up lip rings.”

Dirk’s nostrils flare as Dave cackles an “ohhhhh, you’ve done it now.”

One of Dirk’s eyebrows raises. “You sure about rings? Not so sure they’ll work with your equipment.”

“What are they gonna do, give me a _lisp?_ ”

“Fair enough. Dave, go alchemize a handful of tacky red and blue shit. I get the feeling we’ll be here a while.”

And you are.

First come the bottom lip piercings. Dirk wants to put in studs, but you insist on circular barbells.

“Don’t blame me if you get infected.”

“KN’s dancestor did this just fine. Only took her a few minutes to heal back up.”

Dave thumbs-ups you from over Dirk’s shoulder. “Trolls bounce back like pro lacrosse players are slingin’ ‘em across a field. He’ll be fine.”

“ _Thank_ you. Glad to know _someone_ has my back in this overcompensation parade.” You put your glasses by Dirk's tools so he’s got a little more area for movement.

It does hurt a bit when Dirk shoves a huge needle through your lip, but once it’s done and you lick a bit of stray blood from the back, you’re fine. More than fine, actually. Your bloodpusher is racing in your ears, and you can barely breathe. You’re high on pain and the massive dose of endorphins trolls pump out to deal with it, and —

God, you _are_ getting turned on by this. You squirm in your seat.

Next, above the lips. Studs, and they don’t hurt nearly as much, but you can sure as fuck feel them sliding into you like a lover. Your bulges push out a bit, aided by the sharp throb that goes through your nook with each needle under your skin. Not enough for him to see, but enough for you to feel them drag over the chair every time you shift the slightest bit.

He’s frustrated. It’s not overt, but you can see it in the way his mouth is drawn tight, the way he focuses so intently on each piercing, trying to get it perfect. He’s _trying_ to hurt you, and damn your masochistic side, but it turns you on even more and shuts off every weak social filter you have.

“You know, if you’re trying to hurt me, go for the grubscars. Sensitive as fuck.”

He doesn’t even deny it, and Dave, seated in the chair beside you again, looks up from his phone to smirk at you.

“Whoa now, careful with all that blackflirting, could leave a guy covered in ash over here.”

Dirk takes a deep breath and sinks to his knees for the grubscars - and when he threads a needle through a ridge, that’s the end of it for your self control. You muffle a moan as your bulges twist out against your pants. There’s no way Dirk doesn’t notice the wriggling, given that his face is close enough to you that you can feel him breathing hot and heavy against you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just moves to the other side, and you swear to god he's testing your limits when he smooths his hands over your abdomen on his way across.

Dave notices too. Not the bulges - he probably can’t see them from his chair - but he definitely notices the squirming and the aroused noises.

“Holy shit, do you two need a room or something? I mean, this _is_ a room, sure, but I mean a bona-fide candlelit hatedate complete with ferocious hatemating on expansive plush hatecouches, where you leave spreading pools of hatejizz that will hella stain like hatewine. You’ll hate it in the morning, you’ll hate it when you leave, and you’ll _really_ hate it when you inevitably come back to each other for further hateful sexytimes, but - “

You practically hump Dirk’s face when you jolt at the second piercing, and he carefully puts aside his tools and peels off his gloves while Dave mutters an “oh my god you’re really going to fuck, aren’t you?” His face is plastered with horror, like he’s watching a car crash mere inches from his face.

Orange eyes flash over his glasses as Dirk peers up at you, an eyebrow quirked. You incline your head the slightest bit to indicate that _yes, dear god, yes_ , and you don’t know how Striders are so damn _fast_ , but he’s in your lap, crushing you into a kiss, before you realize it’s already happened. You’re glad he actually _does_ have excellent control, at least in this regard. This very well could have ended with you hitting the floor so hard you went unconscious.

Dirk pointedly looks right at Dave as his tongue slips into your mouth. Dave makes some sort of strangled noise that probably isn’t healthy for human anatomy.

Dirk palms between your legs, and you crumple like a sandcastle in a tsunami. He pops off your mouth long enough to mutter something about 'exploiting your weak spot,' then tugs at your lip rings gently, as if he doesn’t quite believe they’re as healed as you think they are. You grind against his hand, each of your bulges trying to wrap around it through your pants.

You catch a splash of red in your peripheral vision - Dave, red-faced, trying to slip out of the room.

“Hey, you - “ you squeeze Dirk’s ass to distract him long enough to speak intelligibly, “you don’t have to leave, you know. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see that piercing.”

He pauses, chewing on his lip, then a slow smile spreads over his face.

“Yeah. Count me in.”

Dirk nips at your ear. “Who said this was going far enough that you’d see his piercing?”

You scoff. “Every fucking porn trope ever.”

“Talk dirty to me, Captor. Tropes are Strider lifeblood.”

Dave pokes at your shoulder from behind. “So, uh. How do I get in on this hamburger, there’s a little too much chair in the way for this particular bun to slide its way on top.”

You snort so hard that you jostle Dirk, and his glasses almost come off. He straightens them. Pauses. Takes them off - and carefully folds them up with his tools.

Orange. So much orange. Like orange creamsicles. Wait. Do humans have orange creamsicles? You can’t remember. But you have more important things to think about, like the two servings of Strider you’re about to devour.

“Well…” You lick your lips. “I think I’d like a taste of Strider to start with.” You push Dirk off gently, and he slides to his knees, letting you follow him to the floor. Dave’s cape falls with a _fwmp_ , and between the two of you, you manage to wrangle Dirk’s shirt off. But it’s not what’s under his _shirt_ that interests you the most, though it is quite an eyeful of lean muscle, with a thin layer of post-game pudge on top of it. Dirk reaches down to pop the button on his jeans, but you beat him there with a psionic _pop, zip_ , and _pull_. His boxers are plastered with Roxy’s pink cat symbol, and you can’t tell if he did that ironically or if he’s honest-to-god wearing her underwear.

Dave finishes pulling his own shirt off and grins at Dirk’s boxers.

“You too, huh?” He arches up to strip off his skinny jeans, and you’re treated to multicolored squiddles.

They fistbump while you guide Dirk’s erection out of his boxers, because there’s _obviously_ nothing better to focus on here than clothing they’re gonna be wearing much longer. He hisses when you claw at his hips to pull him closer (because why use psionics when you can sting him back for all the piercings? He’s gonna need that endorphin high when you bend him over and fuck him in half), but hell if the pain stops him from jabbing his dick into your eye when you lick at him, one fork of your tongue to either side.

“Dirk, I am _trying_ to get you off here, I would appreciate it if you stopped being a wriggler and let me lead you into the magical land of chutesex and orgasms. You can trust me here. It was literally my land, I am a grade-A certified buttravager, it’s me.”

“He does seem kind of like a buttfuck,” Dave helpfully points out, leaning forward on his knees to pull your own pants and underwear down. He waves the boxers over your head, darkening your view of Dirk’s dick, but you don’t need to be able to see to pop your mouth over it. Does take a little bit of getting used to the piercings, though. You’re not sure if you’d rather have them catch on his dick or not. Actually, you’ll go for no, because you really want the two-for-one fresh-caught Strider Special you’re about to devour.

“Honestly I expected blue and red but I already used that joke so I’ll just leave that unsaid.”

“You said it anyways, you anus nibbler.”

“Shut the fuck up, Captor, I left it unsaid. I even fucking _told you_  I left it unsaid, in case you didn’t notice.”

Dirk sighs. “Plain black, Sollux? A fashionista you are not. Go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect 200 boonbucks.” There’s a reference going over your head there, you’re sure, but you ignore it and slurp your way up his dick long enough to scowl.

“My laundry is on KN’s line, okay? I wasn’t exactly expecting to walk face-first into a threesome. _Fuck_. Dave, are you planning on joining us any time soon, or are you trying to appeal to my exhibitionist streak?”

You’re flipped over Dirk’s leg and onto your back, pinned by a freshly-naked Dave. You could regain control with your psionics, sure - but you like where this is going.

“Hi.”

Dave's cock throbs against your leg, oozing trails of precum, and he nips hard at your neck, making your seedflap clench and flutter like a flag in a hurricane. He slides down your body, sucking at your everything, trailing stickiness down your leg and smearing his stomach with material. His mouth opens to swallow you in, and you hold your breath in anticipation - and your bulges curl around his glasses and attempt to stuff them in your nook.

He quite literally growls at you, and spreads your thighs so he can pry you off of them. You try to relax, to help him get them free, but the friction of them as he pulls them out of your grasp makes it harder to stop. Once they’re extricated he pushes them at Dirk, and you turn to see what’s happening in that direction but wow, _that sure is Dave's tongue in your nook._ It's nigh-on  _violent,_ flicking viciously against you, and you chirp and whine every time he sucks the bottom of your stretched-out sheath. KK wasn’t kidding when he bragged about bagging the best fuck this side of Sgrub.

“Christ in a helm, Captor. Looks like we need to wrangle those bulges before they fly into the sunset, trilling out the mating call of the wild tentabeast.” Dirk crawls closer while Dave licks up the split of your bulges, and you catch a brief flick of his eyes towards Dirk before both of their mouths are on you at once, fingers pinching at your grubscars and fondling your rumblespheres, little bobbing movements pressed against your legs while they pump their cocks - and oh look, Dirk is out of his underwear too - and you straight-up _stop breathing_ when they turn to each other and kiss with your bulges pinned beneath them.

They’re practically clones while naked and exposed like this - their hair wild from the vigor of sex, the glasses gone, the clothing cast aside, their eyes closed while strings of saliva and genetic material drip from their mouths. You’re dizzy from not breathing, but you can’t, not when there’s this oddly _sensual_ moment in the middle of this mayhem, when they lick into each other’s mouths softly like you’re not even there. You knew their relationship was weird, that they’d had an odd past, but...this? No, this you wouldn’t have expected. They’ve _done_ this before.

Dirk sighs and grinds against your leg. Your body shoves you towards your peak, and you trill with the effort of holding back.

They turn their heads, eyes opening to glance at you as they lick stray fluids from the corner of their mouths. The _mischief_ in those eyes - fuck, you are so screwed in the best of ways.

Dirk rolls back onto the floor, pulling you on top of him, and Dave presses against you from behind. Your bulges twist around Dirk’s dick, and he angles his hips up. You think it’s so you can grip more firmly, but no, he hooks his legs over your shoulders and all you have left to rub up against is the crack of his ass.

“C’mon, Sollux. Give me that dicking you promised. Don’t leave a guy hangin’.”

You swallow. Don’t you have to prepare for that stuff?

He reads your mind. “Won’t be a problem, just do it slow. Nice and easy, get that nice little flared tip in until you’re massaging my prostate like a pro. _Then_ the rest of it, ridges and all, because I’m gonna get nice and lubed up when you’re rubbing that dripping alien dick all over my insides. After that? We’re gonna get the other one in. I like ‘em thick.”

Dave drapes himself across you, dick rubbing along the folds of your nook. He dips the tip in, teasing, and something hard and cool drags in and out, adding points of pressure to the movement.

“Uh.” You twist, trying to see what the actual fuck.

“Yeah, about that…,” Dave leans over you, taking advantage of his height to drip saccharine words directly into your ears. “I guess you’re not getting a look at them _before_ the dicking, but we can save that for later. It was hell watching Karkat’s plush ass flouncing around for weeks before I could fuck him again, but it was goddamn worth it, he assures me.”

“There certainly is a lot of dicking going on around here, isn’t there?” You’ve all been running around fucking like fluffy hopbeasts post-game, but there’s nothing wrong with a little meta-analysis from your internal peanut gallery.

“Not enough,” Dirk huffs, squirming against you more insistently. “If you don’t put your slimedicks inside of me in the next three seconds I will forever shun you and all you stand for.”

“Golly gee, Mister Strider, did you ever stop to consider that, given the position we find ourselves in, my excellent taste might indicate that dicking is precisely my shtick?”

“Then you’d better prove it before my fondly-awaiting ass strides out of the room like a jilted lover. Wreck me already, Captor.”

Your brain fizzles. Yes. Yes, you will wreck him, eagerly and for great justice. You twist the flared tip of a bulge into his ass, bracing yourself on your knees so Dave can tease your nook again. Dirk tenses up tight around you at first, so much it almost hurts, then he lets out a deep breath and relaxes so much, all at once, that you sink into him another inch or so. He arches up, his dick bobbing against his stomach, to press you in further.

Dave slips into you from behind, sliding on his knees before getting a good angle, and you fold Dirk over harder from the shock, one bulge drilling into him almost to the hilt while your other twists around the base of his dick. Have you passed the spot he mentioned? Probably. You flick inside of him, rubbing your ridges around, trying to find it. He moans and grips at your hips, so you’re doing _something_ right, at least.

Dave’s piercings slide against your shameglobes, the head of his shaft bumping up against your seedflap. You flutter around him, your lower half shuddering with need as he overstimulates you, in and out, in and out, grind, grind, _grind_.

“ _Fuck_.”

He laughs, tucking his neck over your shoulder and nuzzling into your hair. “Goddamn, I love trolls, the way you do that ripply thing with your insides, it’s like a constant orgasm, makes a guy feel like a god, not that I’m _not_ a god, technically, but now I am the god of jizz and fuck, it is me, destroyer of nooks, stimulator of shameglobes, penetrator of seedflaps, bestower of the bitchin’-est orgasms this side of paradox space.”

Your back hurts like an heiress getting the smackdown, and your ears are throbbing with the assault of a Striders ego, but you wouldn’t stop for anything right now.

You bend Dirk over so far that you can stabilize yourself with your hands on the floor to either side of his shoulders, and he lets out a noise that you really hope is a pleased one. “Are you really gonna take that implied bashing of your sexual prowess lying down, Dirk?”

“I _am_ lying down, and I’d prefer to _stay_ this way, and I’d very much prefer it if your sparkly golden twintacles were both inside of me and hurtling towards a cum-inflation extravaganza that’s gonna fill me up like eating twenty of Jane’s prize-winning cakes.” He’s got most of you and Dave’s weight squishing him into the floor, and he’s begging for more. Kind of impressive, actually.

“Heh. I dunno if I can beat cake, but hell if I’m not gonna try.” You untwist your second bulge from the base of his dick, and slide the tip right up the other inside of him, stretching him out. Dave snaps his hips faster, biting your neck hard, and you fucking _know_ he did it just so you’d slip into Dirk with the weight of both of your bodies behind it. Dirk tips his head back and chokes at the sudden force, but one hand leaves your hip to brace himself on the floor while the other flies to his dick. A reddish flush tints his dark skin as he jerks himself furiously against you, trapped in the tiny space between your bodies.

It’s goddamn _beautiful_.

Dave’s piercings and the head of his dick drag relentlessly over your globes, squeezing prematerial into your genebladder, sending you gasping as every nerve tenses in preparation for orgasm. He fits right into you, just long enough to bump up against the entrance to your seedflap, and it's torture of the best kind as the three of you move slowly from awkward thrusting into a more organized cadence. Dave thrusts you deeper into Dirk. Dirk groans, tightens around you, arches into his hand. Dave pulls out and drags the piercings against you for what feels like days. The agonizing process repeats until Dave is pounding into you at an unholy pace, moaning and mumbling obscenities that he probably thinks are coherent but most definitely aren't. God, the way he thrusts you closer to the edge without giving it to you, the pricks of his nails digging into the bones of your hips, the way he leans down from time to ravage an ear while somehow continuing to keep up a steady stream of dirty-mouthed insinuations - fuck, you could get used to this. Hell, you  _hope_ you get the chance to get used to this. 

He groans out a long _ffffuck_ when he finally comes, dripping beads of sweat that roll over your back while your seedflap throbs around him eagerly, sweeping up every last bit of his material that it can get its grubby little fronds on. He rolls off alongside the sweat, landing against the floor with a soft slap of skin and a drawn-out exhale. Your hips ache when he takes his weight off, leaving crescents embedded in them, and you turn to fucking Dirk with relentless vigor, focusing on wrenching up the pressure even though Dave's body weight is gone. It backfires.

You spill first, and it doesn’t take long. After Dave thrusting you that close to orgasm, the unexpected satisfaction of a fantasy come to life, the high at the top, your body screaming for release, Dirk clenching around you with every twist inside of him - you come.

Dear _god_ , do you come. The fluttering in your nook turns to body-wide shuddering, you pulse maddeningly around nothing - and the knot in your stomach softens as you stuff Dirk Strider with every ounce of material your body can scrape together.

Some of it drips from his ass despite the tight, wet heat of him clenched around you, and he breaks down and _sobs_ , a sound you never expected to hear from a Strider. Like Dave, he's nigh-incoherent, garbling out incomplete, needy phrases - _oh god, yes, yes, please_ \- while he fucks himself with his hand, pressing against the slurry bump in his lower abdomen. He’s so pitiful that you push his hand away, sending a light psionic wave from the base of his dick to the head as it throbs against you. His ass presses insistently against you with each pulsing splash of come across his chest, his legs slide from your shoulders as he collapses to the floor, and your bulges slip out from the movement. He groans as he deflates, half-delirious.

He laughs after a moment of silence, breathing hard enough to break it up into a stuttering mess.

“That was. Damn. It’s been a while since I had to push my flexibility that far. Remind me to proposition you more often.” His eyes are shining, and you’ll have to rethink everything you know about Dirk now that you’ve seen him sans the Strider façade. You follow him down and bite softly at his lower lip.

“Hey, Dirk? Proposition me more often.”

He grins against your lips, and tugs at your piercings with his teeth.

“Cleanup in aisle five,” hoots Dave, sliding across the floor and bumping into you. You turn to tell him that really, it’s his fault for goading you and Dirk into that first kiss, so he can clean it up himself, but -

_Snap._

Dave's arm is outstretched, his other hand throwing a peace sign, and when he flips his phone around he’s got a blackmail-perfect picture of the three of you, faces all but touching, hair gone terribly wrong, eyes completely exposed, shock evident from the two of you that were attached tooth-to-lip, and an unholy smirk on Dave’s face like he’s showcasing a masterpiece of shitty art. You’re frozen in place, taking it in, just long enough for him to hit “Send” to someone whose number he’s shortened to a single digit on his phone.

“Karkat is going to be _so_ jealous.”

**Author's Note:**

> +50 nerd points to anyone that got the Hercules reference.
> 
> You can find me at [Solluxisms](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and this particular fic is [here](http://solluxisms.tumblr.com/post/124028668410/two-2erviing2-of-2triider-aewin-homestuck) if you'd like to share!


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